Art, Poem, etc. thread

[tabatha]

yes, ethan is chris's brother. chris is the oldest, ethan is the second oldest.

[jennaceeta25]

Ok, I thought so!
thanks for clearing that up.

[tabatha]

The sweat was running like a river. Sticky and stifling. Sun beat down high in the cloudless bright blue sky. No breeze moving through. Somehow the heat seemed to be sucked into the stadium, in the stands, on the field. Cars drove by at a sedate pace. Hardly any pedestrians. Why chance it in this type of weather? Chris blew out an impatient breath. Jersey soaked, the blue showing the color of the shirt underneath. Red. Arms slick. Legs burning. The grass didn’t help the temperature of his feet either. If they were hot, his body was too. Took the wrist band to wipe excess wetness above the eyes. Sunglasses kept the sun’s glare down some. The hat deflected some of the heat. Darkness of his hair did the opposite.
Grant, today’s starting pitcher was slower, taking more time. All but pacing around the mound. If he didn’t stop that...the umpire called time. Just wish he’d pitch the d**ned ball, and have him pop it up, something. A strike, probably a beauty. Sometimes it struck him as silly to be standing yards behind the pitcher and just watch him, waiting for a play. A one time pitcher himself.
The ball was hit high, carrying out towards him. The baking heat slowed him down, but not enough. He caught it with ease. And tossed it back in. Then trotted to his usual spot. Mouth dry. Shoulders aching. Eyes burning. Took two pitches to get the next batter to ground out. Chris nearly moaned. He had to trot back to the dugout. Shade didn’t mean a thing. But it was better than being cooked alive.
Jogging down the steps, and grabbed a cup. Filled it with water. It was cold. Someone must of put more ice in it. He drank another cup. Tried not to get greedy, his stomach wouldn’t let him. Did that once. Not a good idea. Stretched out and waited for his at bat to come up. He was due fourth. An old fan, once used for the big club, now shot out air. Barely noticed. Zoning out for a short time. Chris did this now and again. It lead to homers and big base hits.
Stan got a base hit. And gave his all running to first. That kid worked hard. Grant sacrificed him over to second. One on, one out. He stretched his lithe legs. And prepared to go out to the on deck circle. Put on the gloves, helmet. Grabbed a bat and was faced with the brightness yet again. Swung the bat around to loosen up shoulders. It eased up with less bite this time. Then stood still to watch Steve work his magic. And just like that, a smooth base hit just past the second baseman. Two on, one out.
They were playing him in. Like he’d hit into a double play. Bit the inside of his lip. Just watch and see...
Took the first two pitches. One for a ball, the other a strike. The next had his hands gripping the barrel and swinging freely. It cracked off the bat, carrying dead center. And the center fielder had lost the ball due to the sun. Chris charged out of the batters box. All while watching. Saw the baseball drop near the warning track, while the other out fielders came charging in to help. His speed was dazzling. All ready past first base, on the way to second, the right fielder bobbled it. He ran all the way to third base. With no slide. Too hot for that. Two runs scored.
Wiped at his cheeks, where more sweat beaded. Took off the batting gloves, and stuck them in the back pocket. Third base coach, Juan pat him on the back. There were times he couldn’t believe Chris’s speed. It was nothing short of amazing.

[jennaceeta25]

I absoutly love your writing, Tab.
Keep it up!
I love the way you ended it, this Chris character, I feel for him. Heats unbearable.

[tabatha]

thanks jen! i have some more to post 'tomorrow' the heat is never fun. i can't imagine how hot it gets during games. i've seen the cardinal's jerseys get dark from sweat.

[tabatha]

i finally started chapter 3...this is tough

Chris stood at his locker with a grin on his face. Hair still wet from the cold shower. Wearing a white tank top and loose fitting blue jeans. And some kind of new sneakers. A chain around his neck. He felt good. After that hit, he went 4 for 5. With two home runs. A reporter just finished asking him questions as the lady he couldn’t stop staring at walked in. Her hair was back, slightly damp. Face slightly flushed. Smelling of sun screen and summer. Stood for a moment then went to ask Kyle some questions. He smiled and answered in a good natured way. Stan was next. Then Steve. They all liked her.
Next was the winning pitcher, Grant. Chris grinned. Was she avoiding him? She then came up to him, appearing nervous. Which in turn knotted his stomach. Looked up with big brown eyes, surrounded by long lashes. He inhaled and caught a slight floral scent mixed with everything else. She was kind of short, but cute.
“Hi, I’m Tammi.”
“Hello, Tammi. If you didn’t know by now, I’m Chris, nice to meet you.”
“Same here.” Getting more nervous. Then jumped right in. “How does it feel to have a game like that, after having a few struggles here and there?”
Simple enough. “Feels great. I felt like I was letting the team down. That’s never fun. Wasn’t so much about myself like some people think, but helping them out.”
She nodded. “What inspires you keep going, when things don’t seem to be going the way you planned.”
“It’s my job to get hits. Yeah, defense is great, but I want to add to the offense more than anything. I’m naturally driven. Have some people around who inspire me though.”
She shifted her weight to her left leg. “Do you put more pressure on yourself when you think you should be doing things differently?”
Hm, she got straight to the point. “I try not to, but yes. One of my faults, actually.”
“How can you stand this heat? Did you play in any weather hotter than this?” She asked.
“You get somewhat used to it, not always. I’m from the south. It gets to smoldering down there. Here too. Never fazed me.”
“Guess not, because you did great out there.”
He always felt odd taking compliments from others. He’d rather be criticized. Drove his dad nuts sometimes.
“Thanks.”
Tammi caught on. “There’s nothing to be negative about in today’s game.” She told him. “Just keep up the good work.”
Chris grinned slightly. “Thanks.” And was sad to see her go.

[jennaceeta25]

wonderful! I loved the description!
I hope they meet up and have a romance.
They seem so "love struck"
It's cute.

[tabatha]

Chris had to shade his eyes from the bright sky. There weren’t any clouds. Even the cap and glasses didn’t help much. He frowned. Frank stood there, somber. “Hey Frank. What’s up?”
His eyes were blood shot. Face lined with worry. “Some old stuff. How about you.”
“Some odd prank call. Don’t know who it was. Anyway. I got your wife a couple of tickets. Now before you protest, I’ve found her a place to sit with out her having to go through so much hassle. Please, give them to her, as a gift. Frannie is one of the best fans I’ll ever have. And I want her to be here.”
Frank looked at the date. Sighed. He really hope he could squeeze the game in for his wife, but she had physical therapy that day.
“If she can’t make it, then give me a day that will work, don’t look so panicked. We’ll figure something out.” He stood silent. This would make his wife’s day. No way was he letting Chris go out of his way again.
“No, this is fine, don’t go getting more tickets. Frannie will be thrilled.” And she would, he knew. They never had any kids. And she was so motherly. Sometimes it seemed unfair. But that woman adored Chris. Always stood up for him. “Thank you.”
Chris smiled. “Any time Frank. Tell Frannie I said hello for me.” He walked past and headed for the field.

He was early working with Dan again. Looking slightly awkward with his joints. But kept at it anyway. Slight twinges here and there but nothing to worry about. Just focus on the task at hand. Pounding the baseball. “Like what I’m seeing Chris. Your dad coming up soon?”
“It’ll be a while yet. Won’t let me pay for his fare. Stubborn jackass.”
“Like father like son.” That got a smile. “You want Rand to take over?”
“No, I’m fine with you doing this, helping me out.”
Dan just nodded. Chris was working up a sweat. Which meant he was onto something. Easy to see. Which excited him to see it.
“Talked to that new reporter, Tammi. She seems sweet. Shy though.” That threw him off a bit. “See you met her too.”
“Yeah. Was all nervous.”
“Thought she would. We talked a little about you.” That really got his attention.
“What she’d want to know?”
“This and that.”
“Oh, that all?”
“Well, she seems keen on you. Think she’s wanting to write up an article on you.” Dan stopped a moment. Grabbing a drink. Letting Chris get one too.
“She didn’t say much about it. Just asked me about the game is all.” He murmured, trying to catch his breath.
“Just trying to feel it out. When Tammi wants to get it started, she’ll let you know. I like her. Guess I all ready said that.”
“You did.”
“She isn’t interested in what some others are. Yeah, I’m sure she’s noticed some of the guys in their uniform and thought how good they looked.” He grinned at the look that darkened his pupil’s nearly black eyes. “But she’s not in the business to get a date. Tammi is here to write stories. Could care less about that. Curious. Got a nephew a little younger than her, might set them up.”
Chris looked back at Dan. “You mind waiting on that?”
Ah, so Chris was thinking about her all ready...he just pushed him in the right direction. “Lets get back to it boy.”

this is from ch2.

[jennaceeta25]

I love it, so far, Tab!!!! ;D ;D ;D
It's going great!
what's going to happen next, I wonder?..

[tabatha]

It darkened slowly. Sky turning a gorgeous lavender. With streaks of pink. Clouds matching. Looking as though they were created by a perfect paint stroke. A soft breeze stirred the air. Managing a collective sigh from the fans. It brought nostalgia with it. That feeling. Of being content. One minute the heart is aflutter, the next, your stomach and gut eases. Reminds you of childhood, and the children would get to recall that feeling as they grew older. The smell of food of all sorts. The sugary taste of cotton candy. Constant murmur of fellow fans. And squeeze it into a minor league ball park. There was beauty. In it’s own way, art.
Tammi glowed with it. Made her think of her nephew. Her brother was taking him to a Cardinals game. How envious a small part of her was. But this wasn’t so bad. In fact, it was great. To get away from the worries. To enjoy it. Win or lose. She, of course, was hoping for a win. Her eye out on the outfield. Then settled back on the pitcher. Joey was on cruise control. It was the top of the seventh.
She was happy to know his numbers. The amount of strikes, balls, hits. Was never really good at the numbers. Always explained it in other ways. Her boss tried to get her to be a stat freak. But it just wasn’t in her. So he let off, and was instead impressed by her knowledge of other things going on in the game. And snuck a look at her blog a time or two.
Selfish, she was. Wanting this time to last for just a little while longer. Just thinking about the interviews made the knots in her stomach tighten. There wasn’t any use fooling anyone. Tammi had a small crush on Chris. Made a flush in her cheeks just thinking about it. Dan picked up on it easily enough. Being a great guy that he is, didn’t say much about it. But threw hints that someone was single. She hoped so. Would be guilty as sin liking someone else’s boyfriend. The thought put fear in her. It would sting, but she’d better off knowing. But hated even wondering. Wouldn’t dare ask either. No use worrying over it now.

It was late. Nearing the darkest hour. The bus was steady. Not quite so loud this time. He could hear the hum of the tires on the pavement. Still, it could not bring him any sleep. Kept thinking about Tammi. Her smile, her scent. The way she kept looking at him with big brown eyes. Nearly got the nerve to ask her on a date. Chickened out. Now he’d have to wait until this long as* road trip was over. A week straight, a day off, three days back home. Then another lengthy trip. It was hard for the guys to hold down steady relationships. There were guys who stepped out on their partners, and the ladies did it too. Personally, it pissed him off. There were temptations if life, but sometimes you had to let them go. His dad was a perfect example. Mom as well. A few guys on the team were like that. Chris didn’t say much to them. He tried not to let it get in his way when it came to the game. But when the season was over, they were not buddies.
Getting burned didn’t help much either. Claire helped him out on that. He cheated on his first girlfriend with her. Later, much later, he called her, crying. Telling her how sorry he was. That she deserved much better. It was over a year after it happened before he made that call. She thanked him. Saying that she moved on. But the words helped ease the pain. Only a little. How stupid he had been. Young, but stupid. And he was cheated on too. There was no way he could ever do that. Not even when it happened to him. It hurt too bad. And stayed with you too long. Your trust was broken. Hard to start again. Being on both sides made it even worse. Chris still felt guilt. Unlike others, he’d learned from it.
His mind went back to Tammi. If she knew about the others, he’d suspect her views would change. No, she wouldn’t challenge any one in public, or in front of their wives/girlfriends. But her being friendly would not happen. Like him, she’d do her job, and leave it at that.
He focused on his surroundings again. Most of the guys were asleep. How he envied them for that. They didn’t bring much. Clothes were the main thing. Cell phone maybe, if it could get out, small hand held games. Cards, the like. Some liked to read. Nothing wrong with that. Personally he liked reading books dealing with baseball. Not many knew that of course. But he had a few sitting at home in his native south. Eva picked them out.
Chris missed his mom. She was a great woman. Even called him up and told him to keep working on his swing. Looked better, she said, and to stop slouching so much. How the hell could she tell he did that. He was doing it now. Hell, the woman had eyes in the back of her head. She had to. They were a hand full. Every one of them. But they were raised to respect and love her. And to think he’d want his wife to have qualities like that if they were to have children. Scary thought.
Several moments past, as the moon lost its glow, and slowly gone, stars no longer shining. That moment where it gave him the creeps. Tonight though, it didn’t happen. He sighed. It was part of the cycle. For there to be light, there had to be darkness. For there to be good, there had to be bad. There he went again. He grinned, shook his head, groaned as he tried to find a good spot on the seat, and slowly began to drift. And drift into warmth and comfort.

[tabatha]

Free
9/3/08
I’m tired of this life, all the pain, all the drain, all the strife.
I look at myself and see something not worth while.
All the burdens, all the degrading words, all the shame that I carry.
Is locked deep inside me, far away from seeing eyes.
Until it comes pouring out, harsher and much more cold than a tidal wave.
It shakes the foundation much harder than an earthquake.
It swoops down on you faster than a hunting owl at night.
Steals the light like that of moon before the darkest hour before dawn.
You blame yourself, think you deserve what you’ve been dealt.
God is great, he’s not at fault, but he’s too good, he’s too pure.
And the one person you found comfort in is ripped away from you.
Leaving you guilty of that one chance to forget all that’s happened.
It is buried for years upon years, though signs slip through.
Everyone sees it but me, you think to yourself, I’m a flashing sign.
Then hints of the past blend with the present, and it’s trying to break free.
It sucks you down, makes you relive, what you thought you’d lost for good.
Leaves you open and raw, like a wound, fresh and painful.
You over analyze your past, your mistakes, your faults.
Try to move forward only to be held back by the ones who thought you knew.
It’s a cycle that keeps repeating until you stand up and fight.
You’re scared, you’re angry, you’re done of hiding in the shadows.
The skin comes off, the wings break free, the arrows deflect.
They see themselves in your eyes, and they don’t like what they see.
Something ugly, degrading, horrible looking back at them.
Isn’t that what you felt, day in and day out while they fed that monster.
A child, the best judge of character sees something good, you run away.
A sorry excuse of a human tells you you’re nothing and you believe.
But who are they, the ones who held you down and ripped you apart.
They are nothing but something to pity, to hate, to discard of.
Open your wings, spread them wide, we’re all free to fly tonight.
Over the mountains, tree tops, lakes and rivers.
To the places you escaped to when you could. Fly fast fly free.
Feel the wind at your feet, in your hair, flowing through the air.
Hear the whispers of the angles, the ones who watched over you.
Feel the strength of your faith, the part you hid yourself from.
Let it break free, consume you, wash you clean, make you whole.
Leave it all behind, let it all go, the monster is now gone.
Love yourself as you always should of done, be free to fly into the night.
Free to find the good in others, to find the good in you. Free to soar.

[mellie]

OMG Tabs that poem made me tear up. You have such a gift with words, and thanks for sharing that gift with us.

[tabatha]

Thanks Mellie, that means a lot. And I love sharing it. If it makes someone feel better, then I feel that I did my job. Hard to believe that I started writing poems in 6th grade!

[Mars]

What is art?
Art is art. The oil that turns the wheels of life.
Art is life.
Art is love.
Art is everything.
Understanding.
Confusion.
Tranquility.
Turmoil.
Love.
Hate.
Fear.
Peace.
Everything that works.
-Mars, 9-6-08

Oops. I meant to post this one a while back, but kept forgetting about it. Surprise, I guess.

[tabatha]

Who wants Love?

Who wants love, unconditional ties that bind.
Who wants love, when it can go bad, shred, bleed.
Who wants love, when it leaves you barren and cold.
Who wants to change, to be something you’re not.
Who wants to cling, when it comes to and end.
Who wants to be bitter, when that love finds new.
In the end, you’re left looking like a lonely fool.
Who wants love, when it comes at a price.
Who wants love, when it stabs you in the back.
Who wants love, when it’s something you can’t grasp.
It can lift you to new heights, sink you into the depths.
Leave you raw, shaken, and lost. Rip you apart.
Turn you into something you don’t even recognize.
It leaves you wanting more, trying to find its source.
What of the kind that wants nothing in return?
Just a safe return home, happiness, fulfilment.
The kind that leaves you so afraid of losing it.
Of never being able to find that kind of love again.
Opening yourself for the chance of heartache.
Who wants love, when you can’t love yourself?

1/23/09
Tabatha

Uck, my writing seems off. The ending stinks.